


The Graduation Party

by Mimiminaj



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graduation Parties!, Hurt Stiles, Insecurity, M/M, Mama Stilinski Feels, The Hale Pack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiminaj/pseuds/Mimiminaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is afraid nobody will care about his graduation party. He's surprised when Derek does. "It's weird seeing you at a party. Like, where people have fun and there's a limited amount of shadow space to lurk and creep in." Totally fluffy but turns angsty but has a happy ending!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

"It's weird seeing you at a party. Like, where people have fun and there's a limited amount of shadow space to lurk and creep in."

Stiles glanced to the left. He was currently playing bean bag toss against Scott and Allison. His partner? The one and only Derek Hale. Stiles couldn't figure out what was weirder – playing an actual recreational game with Derek Hale, or that the guy had showed up to his graduation party.

Derek didn't say anything as he shot his beanie bag across the yard. It was all-net as it flew into the hole. No amount of excitement crossed the Alpha's face, especially weird seeing as it was the winning shot.

Derek not responding to Stiles' usual sarcastic jabs? No emotion for playing and winning fun gradation lawn games? Stiles relaxed. This was the Derek he was used to.

"It is kind of bright out here." Derek murmurs, and Stiles jumps slightly because he just figured the older guy wasn't going to respond to him. "Where's the photo collage you've been ranting about for days?"

"Inside," Stiles asked, a little puzzled at Derek's question.

"As your alpha, I better be in at least one of those pictures."

A lopsided grin slid onto Stiles' face. There was just one picture of Derek in his collage. Interestingly enough, it also happened to be Stiles' favorite.

"Come on, I want to see your face when you see it."

He wasn't quite sure what prompted him to do it. Maybe it was the excitement of seeing "casual Derek". Maybe it was the relief of having a successful graduation party. Maybe, even, it was the three bottles of bud light Stiles had snuck from the fridge before the party to get his courage up.

Or maybe Stiles' just wasn't thinking. As Stiles began to walk past Derek to lead him into his house, his hand reached for the alphas and tugged him along.

For a second at least. Stiles wasn't sure if it was a mutual drop, but before he knew it he was wheeling around with an extremely I-did-not-just-do-that-I'm-sorry look on his face.

What the hell had he been thinking?

* * *

Stiles Stilinski was not a very popular kid. Most of the school ignored him for his sarcastic, childish, and borderline annoying behavior. He only uses these adjectives because it's what one of his classmates had told him after Stiles had asked the guy if he wanted to be lab partners.

No joke. The dude literally said he was speaking for the school. Such a life ruiner.

Stiles also didn't consider himself worth much to the adults in his life. He had a fairly good relationship with Scott's mom, a few of the guys his dad worked with, and his one English teacher who had a surprising amount of faith in him and who decided to look past his obnoxiousness.

What he did have, however, was a hyperactive imagination. These two factors, along with his looming graduation party, combined to form an almost paralyzing fear for the newly graduated teen.

_What if nobody came to my party?_

The idea had formed weeks ago. He graduated from high school on June 9th; right when his father was in the thick of an investigation into a marital murder. Not the time to plan and host a party.

So he pushed it back. He was going to have it in late June instead (still a very usual and acceptable time!). But, of course, his cousin had to be getting married the exact weekend that worked best for the Stilinski's. Stiles couldn't make his family chose between a wedding and a grad party.

Mostly because he knew he'd lose.

So they postponed it to July. All the way to the end of fucking July.

Did people even remember or care about graduation parties after June? Didn't the excitement pretty much just die out? He didn't know, and he was very afraid of the answer.

Probably the worst part was having to go to every single one of his pack mates parties. Scott's was right after graduation. Stiles had no idea Scott knew so many people in the town. It was a huge success, and the idea that his wouldn't compare was born that day.

That new baby was nursed at Lydia's. Lydia, being the most popular of them all, had students swarming her party. Stiles probably didn't even know a quarter of the students who were there, and he spent four fricken years with them.

Jackson's was the real kicker. That damn fear baby full on consumed him at Jackson's party. Stupid rich kid with his rich parents. He had gourmet caters, a bazillion adoring fans, a giant ass house, tents, various campfires, the whole shebang.

When Stiles compared it to how his was probably going to be (a few tables scattered around the front yard with at least three CONGRATS balloons) his stomach had fallen right out of his belly. He didn't even eat that day.

That, right there, was a testament to how nervous the young man had become.

To compensate, Stiles had went into overdrive the week proceeding. He was personally preparing the house, ordering the tables, chairs, and even the tent (YES! HIS DAD WAS LETTING HIM GET A TENT!). He was both relieved and gracious when Ms. McCall offered to help with preparing the food.

The most important part, however, fell solely on Stiles' shoulders. Getting the people for the party.

For the better part of July, Stiles had been on campaign mode. Guess what he did during every single one of their pack meetings? Stile's cornered all of them individually and demanded they come. He's advertised on Facebook multiple times, put an add in the paper, and even told his father to tell everybody at work.

Considering half those people were criminals, Stiles' desperation showed through loud and clear.

It didn't matter. It was happening. People would be at his party. They would have fun. People cared.

…Right?

* * *

"Two cars just pulled in!" Stiles shouted, relieved. His party was set to start at one, yet the first two cars (that's right, TWO bitches) rolled in fifteen minutes before.

He bounded downstairs and greeted two of his relatives.

"Congratulations Stiles," his aunt had said before pulling in a hug. "Thanks for changing the day," she murmured in his ear. Stiles smiled and nodded. His newly wedded cousin grabbed him next, squealing with delight.

"Look at us and our new lives!" He rolled his eyes but hugged her anyway. He greeted everybody else and was about to ask how being married was; when even more people started walking up. Stiles couldn't suppress a squeal.

His family continued to come for the first half hour. Soon there were fortyish people already socializing, thirty more than Stiles expected.

He was weaving in and out of his family, commenting, chatting, and laughing, before his ears perked up and he looked toward the driveway. If this was a TV show, Stiles swore it would have been the time for a super cool song to blare in the background as everything started happening in slow motion.

Seven, count em seven, cars followed one after the other and parked on the side of the road. Out came Scott, Allison, Jackson, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Lydia, and every single one of their parents.

Shit was going down.

Even after that, more kids from his school started showing up. Danny and a few other guys from the team came. Jessica and Elena from Chemistry showed up, giggling at Stile's astounded look.

He was in heaven.

"Congratulations Stiles!"

"Where's the card box?"

"This food is fucking delicious."

"So what's your plans next year?"

"You excited for the summer?"

"Great Party bud."

"You did it. You made it."

And his head was swimming as he made his rounds. He was talking with Jackson's parents ("Thanks for making sure our son stayed out of trouble") when he felt a tiny tremor in the area. Stiles found himself feeling surprised, and he wasn't sure why. He turned to his pack mates. All of them were looking in the same direction with wide eyes.

Stiles followed Isaac's eyes till he spotted what everybody else had already seen.

Derek Hale. Walking up to a graduation party. His graduation party.

_Holy shit. People do care._

They all made a beeline for him. They really should have realized this might look odd, but right now, none of them cared.

"You didn't come to mine!"

"Or mine!"

"You are totally choosing favorites!"

"And  _Stiles_ nonetheless? I was the first one who agreed to join your pack!"

Stiles didn't say anything. He just beamed.

Derek growled. "None of you actually asked me!" And that shut everybody up very quickly.

"Now would you all fucking scram, do you not realize how suspicious this looks?"

They all give Derek a quick, apologetic look before dispersing. Jackson and Lydia dragging Scott and Allison to the beanie bags, Erika returning to her parents, and Isaac and Boyd returning to the line of food.

This left Derek and Stiles.

"You came." Stiles smiled, before jerking his head to the party. They started making their way across the lawn and to the tent.

"You asked. And this was oddly important to you. I look out for my pack Stiles."

"Yeah but I just figured that ended at preventing bodily harm, giving us a place to stay, and watching slash creeping on us from a distance. This, however, means you care."

"I don't care," Derek grunted.

"You care. You came."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Whatever. At least you have me at your party and nobody else can say that. Not even Jackson. I'm eating now. Go away."

Derek turned and made his way to the food line. Stiles watched him with an odd feeling in his stomach. Derek not only remembered what he said about Jackson's party, but he cared enough to show up because of it.

What's more, they just had a conversation that didn't end with a threat, a menacing growl, an annoyed Derek, or any bodily harm. Well this was what they called progress.

SPACE

Derek Hale felt out of place. He couldn't remember the last time he had went to a party. What's more, he couldn't remember the last time he went to a party during the day. No darkness. As much as they all made fun of him for it; it truly was a comfort for the alpha.

Not that he'd ever admit to it.

He was deciding which meat to take. He had already decided in his head, but he hadn't made a move for it yet. He was dreading deciding where to sit.

_What the fuck? This is why I don't do shit like this. I'm not a fucking teenager. I'll just eat by myself._

Derek then realized what he was saying in his head, and he growled. Which was stupid seeing as two teenage girls were standing right next to him deciding which salad to eat. They both looked at him with wide eyes.

"Umm, you just growled. I mean legit growled. Who the hell does that?" One of them said. She was a pretty red-hed that reminded him of Ginny Weasly from Harry Potter. And he's only watched Harry Potter because Scott had forced them to watch the last movie during one of their stupid pack bonding nights. Pack bonding should be hunting deer and working out together, not sleep overs and movies.

Oh, the cons of having teenagers rule your pack.

"I thought it was funny," Ginny's friend said. She was auburn haired, but she didn't remind Derek of anybody.

Derek realized it was his turn to speak. Putting on his best gentlemen and not estranged werewolf alpha face, he smiled. It must have done the charm, because he could feel both of the girl's pheromones spiking.

"Sorry. I was irritated. But I'll just take the pulled pork." He put some on his plate before starting to turn around. He glanced at the girls' plates. They were ready to sit down.

"Do you wanna sit with us?" Ginny asked. Her friend nodded enthusiastically.

"Lead the way," he grinned.

And Derek really shouldn't be sitting down and conversing with these two girls. He could definitely feel eyes looking at him. Judging him. He was a sort of a loner in the town: many even considering him dangerous. It probably wasn't the best picture, sitting with two newly graduated, just 18 year old girls.

He didn't care.

"Your name is Derek, right? Are you friends with Stiles?"

"More of like a mentor. How do you know him?" He asked casually.

"We're in chemistry with him. What do you mean mentor?"

"Have you not heard him talk? Somebody has to teach him how to talk to the ladies."

Both of the girls giggled. Derek held back a smirk as the Ginny look a like seemed to push her chest up into the air. He wondered if she thought she could get more of her boobs to spill out of that ridiculously small dress of hers.  _Teenage girls_ , Derek sighed in his head.

* * *

Stiles was starting to get burned out. He had finished his rounds, and had talked with everybody a sufficient amount. He was ready to hang with his friends. He made his way to the bean bag toss. Scott and Allison had moved on to Isaac and Boyd. Apparently these two were the shit.

"Yo dude you wanna play us after we finish whooping these two?" Scott grinned, throwing a bag into the air and landing it on the board.

"Fuck you," Isaac growled, scoring the same point.

"That doesn't do much," Allison pointed out, "we're still winning."

Stiles rolled his eyes. Some people cared about winning way too much.

"Yeah I can take you. I'll need a partner though." Stiles turned and scanned the yard. He knew whom he wanted. His eyes fell on him before scrunching up in confusion.

"Why is Derek talking with Jessica and Elena?" He tried to keep the bite out of his voice. Was Derek really going to mess with more of his friends?

"Oh you have no idea how annoying it's been. I try to tune it out but I can't," Scott mumbles. "He has the two of them practically begging for his cock. It's a little disgusting. Whoops, he growled at that."

Stiles turned around and glared at the scene. He wasn't about to let that happen.

He stormed down to the tent till he was right behind Derek's chair. With a fake smile, he gripped Derek's shoulders and pulled.

"Hey you two, sorry I'm going to have to borrow Derek. Enjoy your food."

Stiles was surprised when Derek let him man handle him and lift him off his chair. He took a step back when Derek started walking up the hill.

"That was fun." Derek mused.

"What the fuck was that?" Stiles stammered.

Derek turned, sensing actual anger from the teen. His mouth fell into a tight line.

"I'm sorry. It was wrong to toy with them. They were just so easy."

"How far were you going to toy with them till? All the way till they were on their knees and you were humping their face?" Stiles didn't know why he was so angry.

Actually, he did. They were way to young for Derek! And, that's just gross. And at his party! Seriously?!

Derek tensed and a frown slid over his face. He took a step forward till he was extremely close to Stiles, face brushing against his as he whispered in the other teen's ear.

"I haven't given you any reason to think I'm some kind of slut. I didn't want a fucking blowjob from them, and, besides, they are the farthest things from my type. I was just having fun with two very horny, very slutty girls. I would never actually lay a hand on them. I'm sorry if I offended you. I'll leave now."

He pulled away and started to walk towards the road.

Stiles looked straight ahead, feeling somewhat like an ass.

"Derek," he murmured, making his way to the beanie bags where Scott and Allison were just beating Isaac and Boyd. "Get your ass to the beanie bags. We're playing."

Five steps later, Derek was beside him.

"Sorry for overreacting." Stiles mumbled.

"Sorry for thinking that was okay."

"Sorry for calling you a slut."

"Sorry for giving you the impression."

Stiles laughed.

"That one seemed sarcastic."

"It was."

Their disagreement was quickly forgotten. They played the first game, and to everybody's surprise, they won. Scott and Allison demanded on a rematch. By this time, Stiles felt absolutely normal again.

He made a mental note to completely ignore and lock away the feelings he felt when he saw Derek with Jessica and Elena. He convinced himself he was just looking out for their safety, and for Derek's reputation.

At least he thought he had locked them away.

…

"Where's the photo collage you've been ranting about for days?"

"Inside," Stiles asked, a little puzzled at Derek's question.

"As your alpha, I better be in at least one of those pictures."

A lopsided grin slid onto Stiles' face. There was just one picture of Derek in his collage. Interestingly enough, it also happened to be Stiles' favorite.

"Come on, I want to see your face when you see it."

He wasn't quite sure what prompted him to do it. Maybe it was the excitement of seeing "casual Derek". Maybe it was the relief of having a successful graduation party. Maybe, even, it was the three bottles of bud light Stiles had snuck from the fridge before the party to get his courage up.

Or maybe Stiles' just wasn't thinking. As Stiles began to walk past Derek to lead him into his house, his hand reached for the alphas and tugged him along.

Well, for a second at least. Stiles wasn't sure if it was a mutual drop, but before he knew it he was wheeling around with an extremely I-did-not-just-do-that-I'm-sorry look on his face.

What the hell had he been thinking?


	2. Chapter Two

"I'm going to remind everybody," Stiles began, clearing his throat and grabbing the packs attention. "That you will all clear your schedules for next Saturday. And then show up at my party. And have a good time. And bring me money. Then tell everybody else you're having a good time. Then go home. Then tell everybody the next day how good of a time you had at my party. That is all. Carry on."

The pack was currently in the middle of the woods trying to take down Derek Hale. Stiles had interrupted them just as Scott was trying to claw at Derek's throat, Boyd had just thrown Erika at the alpha, and Isaac was attempting to attack Derek from behind his back.

This training session ended as they all did; Derek standing in the middle and four teen wolves scattered on the ground. Stiles' blabbering must have cut into their focus. Derek had easily ducked under Scott (who then ran into and took down Isaac), and had grabbed Erika mid flight (throwing her back at Boyd).

"You never know when something is going to distract you," Derek hissed, words directed at everybody currently struggling to return to their feet. "You need to be able to focus on your target and eliminate all other interference."

Derek's eyes flickered over to Stiles. He gave the other teen a quick nod. Stiles scoffed.

"I did not just do that for you! I was serious people, get your asses to my party."

Unfortunately for Stiles, it wasn't looking promising. He had four pairs of eyes glaring at him, two of them accompanied with a pair of middle fingers.

Stiles gulped. "Just don't forget!"

* * *

Scott had appeared out of nowhere. Stiles' was avoiding Derek's eyes. His face was also beat red. Tension filled the pack in a matter of seconds.

"What just happened?" Scott asked, looking between Stiles and Derek.

Isaac appeared.

"Why the hell did everything just get so intense?"

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but Derek beat him to the punch. The alpha knew that if Stiles attempted to lie, he'd never stand a chance.

"Stiles here tripped over my foot. No need to be so angry bud. I bet this is still about those two girls, isn't it?" Derek flung his arm around Stiles' shoulder and led him across the lawn. Well, he more carried/dragged him away, but those are just minor details.

"I don't know what that was! I swear I don't want to hold your hand!"

Derek turned and stopped in front of him. He debated if he should call out Stiles' lie. He watched as the teen quickly scanned the party. They were relatively close to everybody else. Derek was fairly sure the younger boy was making sure nobody was giving them weird looks.

"People are looking at us weird," he murmured. Derek ignored him.

"Your heartbeat, your face, and the way you're avoiding my eyes tell me something is up. What's going on Stiles?"

Stiles huffed and finally looked at Derek...but then quickly looked away.

"I'm just embarrassed. I…wanna go inside? See those pictures?"

Derek didn't move. He was still giving Stiles that quizzical look.

"I promise it's not about you, okay. Can we just go now?" Stiles stammered out to the ground.

A second passed before Derek stepped to the side. His eyes left Stiles and scanned the party. He spotted Scott and Allison on the other side of the lawn. The boy was giving him a questioning look. Derek just shrugged. He continued his search; finding that the rest of the pack had gone back to their own worlds.

Good. He didn't know what the hell that was, but he didn't want the others interfering before he figured it out. It wasn't so much the grabbing of the hand as the miniature freak out that followed.

Before he knew it, Stiles was no longer beside him. He quickly turned and caught the boy making his way to the door. He was just about to start over there when a middle-aged woman stormed up to him.

"You're Derek Hale and I've heard you're trouble. Why were you talking with my nephew? Weren't you suspected for murder?"

* * *

Stiles really hated tents. Like, he had no idea how much he could hate an inanimate object until this moment.

He was quickly realizing (and quickly denying) that he needed another person to set the damn thing up. It was mere days before his party. He knew that if he called any of his friends (Scott), they would all (Scott would) say they'd (he'd) just stop by later when it's closer to the party and its more time sensible.

Sometimes Stiles hated the crazy in him. He wasn't sure why he wanted the tent up three days before his party, but he knew he had to get it done to feel okay about it.

_Screw it_ , he thought to himself.  _I'll try anyway._

He called Scott….and got his voicemail. He immediately got a bit pissed.

"Of course," he grumbled to himself as he began his fourth attempt at getting the poles set up solo. "He doesn't answer for me. I should really just get the same number as Allison and when he sees who's calling, he'll actually answer. I can see it now. 'Oh shit, it's Allison. I better stop jerking off to her and answer. Maybe then I'll just,"

"Stiles."

Stiles jumped about three feet in the air. The pole he was attempting to keep steady fell to the ground with a soft  _thunk_.

"Derek  _freaking_  Hale," Stiles wheezed, gasping for breath and holding his chest. "What the hell?"

Derek stood on the other side of the tarp with a raised eyebrow.

"You were feeling… _extra_  emotional. I thought I should come and find out why. And frankly," he smirked, grabbing a few iron rods and a huge hammer, "I'm glad I did."

He was beside Stiles within seconds. "Please tell me, what does Scott do after he answers the phone."

"Fuck you." Stiles said with little to no conviction and a pair of fairly red cheeks.

"He fucks me?" Derek questions.

Stiles splutters, totally not realizing until now how that sounded.

"What? No! I'm saying fuck you! Just, go away. I have a tent to set up."

It was at this point that Stiles snapped his mouth shut. He glanced down at Derek's hands.

"Oh."

"Yeah,  _oh_. Now put the pole through the tent hoop, stand it up, and I'll put the damn stake in the ground."

Stiles did what he was told. He watched Derek carefully. They set the first pole up, moved to the next, and as they were setting up the third, Stiles spoke up.

"So you could tell I was…what, angry? Annoyed? Freaking out?"

"I'd say angry. I'd probably say more at the tent than at Scott though."

They finished the third and moved to the fourth.

"So is that like an Alpha thing?"

"Yes and no."

Stiles waited.

And waited some more.

"That's all you're going to say? Yes and no? Come on dude!"

"A pack member can pick up on another pack member's feelings if they are close to him or her. The ability to feel all of your emotions from a distance is saved for me."

"Bet you love that."

"Love that? Maybe if I had a pack full of adults and not teenagers that get angry at tents and not something that could actually cause harm to the pack. Yet here I am to investigate anyway."

"You're lucky I can hear the sarcasm in your voice. Because if you were serious…shit would go down."

"I bet. You'd get mad at the grass instead."

Stiles glared, quickly grabbed the last and final pole from the ground, and swung it at Derek's kneeling head.

Unsurprisingly, Derek caught it without even looking up.

"There, are you happy. I got mad at a legitimate threat to our pack. An overly moody, angry, and generally unsympathetic werewolf."

Derek looked up with wide eyes. For a split second, Stiles was afraid he had crossed some kind of line. Then, instead, his alpha smirked.

"That was a pretty good comeback. Even I'll admit to that."

Stiles beamed. "Thank you sourwolf."

"Do not call me sourwolf."

"Okay."

Derek nodded before setting the hammer down.

"Sourwolf," Stiles whispered, quiet enough that he didn't even hear it himself.

Before he knew what happened, he was on his back pinned to the ground. Derek was hovering over him with a glare.

Stiles grinned. "I would be a lot more intimidated if it wasn't for the fact that we are under my tent. Which would mean it is set up. Which would mean you helped. So yeah, try to bite me. We all know it ain't happ-"

Stiles gasped when he felt lips on his neck. Well, more of an open mouth. He could feel the scrape of extremely sharp teeth against his skin. His whole body tensed up. He stopped breathing. His heart rate went threw the roof.

Derek Hale was actually going to make good on his threats. He was about to be bitten and devoured by a werewolf. He was about-

He quickly sat up when he realized Derek wasn't on top of him anymore. And neither were his teeth on his neck.

Stiles eyes landed on him, leaning against one of the poles holding the tent up.

"You were scared," He grinned "You were fucking terrified."

"You-you, almost…me!"

"Bite you? Turn you? Kill you? Eat you? I guess you'll never-" Derek snapped his mouth shut, craning his ears.

Stiles could feel the intensity of Derek's listening. He stayed quiet.

"You're dad coming home early tonight?" Derek questioned.

"No? He wouldn't come home before it's dark out."

"Hmm. I'll see you around."

"Hey-" Stiles stammered, watching as Derek suddenly bolted. His ears perked when he too heard the car coming up his driveway.

"Well thank you at least," he murmured to himself. "Even if that was a horribly nasty stunt you just pulled."

Sure enough, it was his father.

"Yo Dad you're home early?" Stiles grinned as he met his father outside his car.

He was surprised to see a rather stern looking Sheriff instead of the tired but generally pleased one he usually got.

"Hello. I just came to pick up some files that I had left here last night. I'm going to go inside to get them." He started walking, Stiles falling into step beside him.

"Umm okay. You're acting weird?"

"Am I going to find anybody waiting in the house? In your room? Maybe even hiding there?"

Stiles mouth feel open. Was this about Derek?!

Sure, Derek was cleared and all. But as far as his Dad knew, the two of them didn't have much interaction. His father definitely did not know Stiles spent a quarter of his time at the Hale house, or that they regularly saw each other.

"N-no! Why would you even ask that?"

His father looked at him warily and questionably.

"I have that feeling."

Stiles watched in shock as his father proceeded to search his room (and his damn closet!). And then the living room. And then the basement.

When it seemed the Sheriff had given up, he nodded at his son.

"You did a good job with the tent. Who helped you put it up?"

Stiles brain had to work in over time. He knew that Scott was out of the picture seeing as his father and Scott's mom regularly talked. Jackson was out of the picture because he didn't think his father would believe they were friends. Same goes for Lydia.

"Boyd! Boyd helped! Yeah I called him because have you seen him? He could practically push the stakes down with his hand! Made it  _super_  easy to do. Took like fifteen minutes, tops."

His dad raised his eyebrow.

"I'll see you tonight or tomorrow morning. I don't think you should have any… _friends_ …over though."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. He did not miss the emphasis on friends.

His Dad left soon after. It took Stiles about twenty minutes before he realized that when his Dad left, he had not taken any file back to his work.

* * *

When Derek finally made it inside of the house, he was displeased to find Stiles in a corner talking to two people closer to Derek's age. He figured they were probably just his cousins. He found the photo collage leaning up against the wall on the far side of the room.

It was really nicely made. He couldn't help but smirk at the Stileness of almost all of them. There were plenty of lacrosse pictures, plenty of pictures with Scott, and a few with the rest of his newfound pack.

Derek's lips pulled upwards when he started spotting the baby and toddler pictures. They were vastly outnumbered compared to the teenage Stiles pictures, but Derek couldn't help looking at them longer and closer.

There was one picture that held his eye the longest. It was a toddler version of Stiles, holding up a statue of Pikachu and having the most dopey ass smile on his face.

His eyes looked different. They looked more…innocent. Unburdened.

Derek wondered if a part of that was his fault. Well, not his per say, but the whole werewolf thing.

He started ruling that out when he took a second glance at the rest of the pictures. Even pre-Alpha attack, Stiles looked…like he did now. Uncertain? Critical?

Afraid?

Derek gritted his teeth….and then sighed. His eyes finally landed on the single picture of himself.

It was a simple picture. It was at the old train station, and it was taken only weeks ago. During one of their pack bonding nights, Stiles had attempted to teach Derek how to play this ridiculously stupid and complicated card game.

In the picture, Stiles was giving Derek an evil grin. Derek was glaring at his cards. Stiles actually looked happy.

"I was surprised to see that picture." Derek flickered his eyes and groaned internally. The Sheriff was standing beside him. How the hell did he do that? Nobody sneaks up on him.

"I wasn't under the impression you guys were friends. Not that that's a problem or anything, he just never told me. I thought he would have told me."

Derek turned to face the sheriff. Two calculating eyes met an identical pair. Both men trying to get a solid feel for the other.

"I'm hurt," Derek finally said. "I thought we were friends."

"I didn't think you did friends."

"I didn't think so either," he murmured. The sheriff's eyebrows raised.

"I don't mean to be forward, but the three of us are going to have to have  _the_   _talk_  soon. You should swing by tonight. I'll tell Stiles."

Derek's eyes widened and he snapped his neck till he was staring straight at Mr. Stilinski. Shit just got super awkward.

"I'm sorry,  _sir,"_ he thought to add, feeling like this guy would like the term of respect, "but I have no idea what you are talking about or implying. You're son and are aren't… _together_?"

"Please don't lie Derek. It's not like I can press charges or anything. He's eighteen now." Derek could feel the unsaid  _"and you're 26. That's not okay with me."_

Derek's head was spinning. He looked over to Stiles in the corner; still deep in whatever conversation he was having with his maybe cousins. He didn't usually get this confused.  _What the hell was going on?_

He turned away from the pictures and directed his full body to the sheriff.

"Explain." He stated gruffly. He was a fucking werewolf. He wasn't about to let some 40-year-old borderline alcoholic walk all over him.

"We have very noisy neighbors."

It clicked. Derek could have punched something.

"I came home the other night after they called me. They said they saw you at our house. You can imagine my surprise when they called again, saying you were on top of my son making out with his neck. And then apparently you ran off, which doesn't help you in the decent character category."

Derek couldn't help it. He little let his mouth fall open and gap at the man next to him. This was so fucked up.

"I'm not dating, touching, or in any way associating with your son in a romantic way. I wasn't kissing his neck, I was holding it down. So we wrestle? Talk to him about it."

"I plan to."

To say this wasn't the most tense and severely awkward conversation Derek had ever had was an understatement. Of all the TV shows and movies he's seen, this conversation probably still takes the cake.

Derek continued watching the sheriff. The other guy was probably getting weirded out with the staring and the no talking thing. Derek couldn't help it. The wolf inside of him was waiting for the other man to make his move. Almost daring him to continue his verbal assault, or to leave.

What Derek didn't expect, however, was the complete shift in the air that followed. All authority, suspicion, accusation, and fatherly protection seemed to leave the air. Replaced with uncertainty, fear, and sadness. Deep sadness.

"He's always lying. I can't carry a conversation with him without sensing it. It's complete bullshit. I don't know what you two are. You seem believable. You're whole fucking family died."

And holy shit this dude needed to stop surprising him. He could see where Stiles got his unpredictability from.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Derek's voice was even.

"I just…I can understand why he'd seek you out. Maybe become closer to you because…maybe you're like an older brother or something. Help him work through…"

For the second time, everything clicked.

Derek's eyes shifted toward the pictures. He realized what was missing. Stile's mother was nowhere to be seen.

"Why didn't he?" Derek questioned, scanning the entire collage to be sure. The sheriff seemed to know exactly what he was referring to.

"Please, the last time Stiles talked about his mother was… I don't remember. I wasn't too hopeful her picture would make an appearance today. I don't think he's ever opened that damn box." The sheriff stuttered.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm sorry if I-I wrongly accused you. Whether as a friend or not…please be good to my son."

With that the sheriff turned and walked away. It wasn't outside to rejoin the party, but upstairs to his room. Derek could hear the other man in his bedroom, opening a drawer and sitting down. He heard the ruffle of photos. And crying.

There was a lump in his throat and he had no idea how it got there.

Information-the-fuck-overload.

He stared at the pictures for another few minutes before Stiles slid next to him. He was all nervous and calculating and why the fuck was he all of a sudden so in tuned with the younger boy.

And what the hell was that fucking feeling that was pooling in his stomach. He had no reason to feel so…shitty. That was the only word he could think of.

"Do you like our picture?" Stiles questioned, staring at the photo.

Somehow, in what felt like an hour's time tops, Derek had found himself drowning in the Stilinski family's pain. Pain he didn't even know was there.

"So does that mean you don't like the picture?"

"What are you doing after your party?"

Stiles eyebrows furrowed. He looked confused.

"I guess nothing."

"Not anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it?


	3. Chapter Three

"I had fun at your party Stiles," Lydia smiled, patting Stiles leg as she took the lawn chair next to his. Stiles eyes didn't leave the campfire in front of him.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"Everything all right there?" She questioned.

Stiles internally groaned. Sometimes he just hated Lydia. Of course she would choose Jackson. And of course nothing would ever be said about how she pretty much put the stamp of  _'it will never happen'_  right on Stiles' forehead.

And of course, Stiles thought as he ground his teeth, she would have the indecency to pretend like it didn't matter. Like it didn't hurt that she totally didn't care.

Most days he could handle it. So he didn't have Lydia. So he would never have the girl he had pinned over for literally years. So she choose the complete asshole who spent the same amount of time treating her like shit and pretty much neglecting her left and right over him,  _Stiles_ , the guy who had actually  _cared_.

Most days he could forget about all this. Most days he could consider Lydia a friend. Most days he could even convince himself to be excited that they were now legitimately speaking to each other; that she knew he existed.

Today was not one of those days. Well, it was night now. Tonight was not one of those nights.

It could have been. Stiles had been having a pretty damn good day, what with the success of his graduation party and finding out that Derek was throwing a campfire at the rebuilt Hale house (and he suspected it was partly for him, though he hasn't figured out why yet).

It could have been a day where Lydia's choice didn't cripple him; a day where he participated in the party and had fun. Not a day where he just wanted to sit and be alone at the campfire while everybody else seemed to be talking or wolf wrestling.

A good day was ripped away from him when everybody had left the party and he had found his father upstairs afterwards.

* * *

He was cleaning up with a grin on his face. Hell yeah could he throw the most kick ass party ever. He was so excited to go sit down and open the fifty bizzilion some cards he'd seemed to have been gifted. Oh yeah, he would be making bank.

He folded the last folding chair and set it up against the wall. He'd have to return them all tomorrow. If he was lucky, he could fit both the tables and the chairs in his jeep. That was mostly wishful thinking though.

Oh well. It was card opening time.

When Stiles walked inside, he noticed the absence of his father. He looked around the first floor before deciding he must be upstairs. He wanted his opinion on how he thought the party went, so he started his climb up the stiars.

Who was he kidding? He really just wanted his father to marvel and complement him on how many people showed up. It is perfectly natural to gloat, okay?

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he reached the landing. He opened the text.

**Hey just so you know everybody's bringing extra clothes tonight. I think it's going to be an all nighter. Make sure your Dad knows! –** Scott

Stiles grinned and texted back an affirmative. He was just stepping forward when his whole body stalled. He felt his ears literally tense and lift. He tilted his head to the side, listening.

He heard it again. It was a small gasp of breath.

His eyes widened as he turned his head. He was facing the one room in his house he barely set foot in. It was his father's second study, really more of a storage area, and rarely used when his real study was on the main floor.

The door was cracked. Stiles tiptoed forward and peaked inside. He immediately felt a rush of feelings and Goosebumps. He heard the gasping sound again, and this time he could see it too. His father's whole body seemed to shake as he gasped for a breath.

In his hands was a picture. Stiles could only see the white portion. He didn't really want to see the image anyway.

He backed away slowly. He knew he should probably console his father, but he didn't know how. He didn't want to walk in there.  _Not there_. Nor did he want to talk about…any of that.

And then he was angry. Seriously? He had to do this today? He had to take away the awesome post-party bliss and replace it with insecurity, fear, and a hell of a lot of bad memories and emotions.

He turned and practically ran down the stairs.

"Dad," he called up. He tried his hardest to keep his voice under control. "There's a campfire tonight. I think it's an all night-er too. I already cleaned up. See you in the morning!"

He was almost out of the door before he stopped. He sort of hated himself right now. How could he just…walk away from his father? Who was clearly hurting and needing some serious Stiles comforting.

He turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

"Dad," he called again.

"I heard you Stiles! Have fun and be safe. G-great party."

He could hear the strain in his father's voice. His thoughts flashed to Lydia's party, when he had hallucinated about his father. He clenched his jaw.

He didn't look back as he stormed out of his house. He made a promise that they were going to talk about it when he got back tomorrow. Hell, maybe tonight. He all of a sudden wasn't in the party mood.

* * *

Yes. It was that kind of day. So excuse Stiles for not having the patience to deal with Lydia, but she'd just have to deal.

"I'll take that as a no," Lydia murmured. Stiles briefly wondered how long he had been quiet for.

"Fine, you've been Derek level grumpy since you got here. I'm bringing in the big guns."

She left. He wondered who the big guns were. Isaac plopped down next to him before he could really consider.

"So are you the 'big guns'?"

"I guess. Though I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say. But if you could get better soon that would be awesome."

"Better?" Stiles questioned, angry eyes finding Isaac's.

"You're whole body is like screaming sadness. It kind of brings the mood down."

"Hmm. Glad your back to uncaring Isaac. Ever since you got that job with the vet you've been turning soft."

"I never was uncaring."

Stiles made a little sound in the back of the throat. It clearly said 'sure' in a sarcastic tone.

"I wasn't. I was learning how to be a werewolf. I was trying to gain Derek's approval. I was trying to be as good as Scott. I was trying to do a lot of things. That doesn't mean I didn't regret or care about actually doing them."

Stiles paused for a second. That made sense…he hated how that made sense.

"Which one turned out to be the hardest?" Stiles asked. He kind of liked the distraction Isaac was brining. Unlike Lydia, he didn't come attached with a whole lot of resentment and buried pain.

"Trying to get over my fathers death."

Stiles tensed. Yep, totally take that all back. Stiles  _did not_  like talking to Isaac.

"I honestly thought he loved me. That he cared. That it was just his way of trying to be a good father. It took me a long time to realize that I hadn't lost a father, I lost an abusing, bone breaking, psychopath of a captor."

Stiles looked over at him with wide eyes, his own problems forgotten for the time being.

"Bone-breaking?" He knew it had been bad, he just didn't know how bad.

"Yeah. Nose, arm, ankle, finger, ankle again, shoulder, and two ribs. In that order."

Stiles felt his blood boil. He told himself not to throw up.

"That's…fucked up."

And really, this was the exact opposite of what he needed. Now not only did he feel like shit because of his father and his…yeah, but he felt like shit because he felt like shit _even when_  there were people like Isaac in the world who had spent 16 years being thoroughly abused. And now here Stiles was thinking he had gotten the shortest stick in the whole world.

"It is what it is. I'd say he made me stronger, but that reward really only goes to Derek."

Derek. This shifted Stiles mind back to the almost handholding and the I-know-you're-actually-in-pain look the alpha had given him earlier today.

"This is his party, where is he?" Stiles hadn't seen him the whole night. He hated how disappointed that made him.

"He said he had an errand to run before coming here."

"Oh."

After a few more moments of silence, Stiles eyes returned to the fire.

"Whatever's got you down, Stiles," Isaac finally said, standing and preparing to make his way over to where beer pong was set up a few yards away. "I hope it passes. We don't like to see you hurt."

Stiles doesn't know what to say. Instead, he just makes up some lie.

"I'm hungry. I'm going to go make myself a snack."

He stands and Isaac eyes him wearily.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to shut myself alone in the house. I'll come back out."

Isaac seems to calculate him for a moment before nodding and trudging away.

Stiles hangs his head and makes his way to the front door. He makes it to the first step before Erika is suddenly in front of him, leaning against the new porches' banister. Damn werewolf speed.

He pauses. She doesn't say anything though, so he decides it's just her being weird and starts to continue up the steps. He's reached the landing, and his shoulder is about to brush past hers before she holds her arm out and her hand places itself on Stiles' chest, stopping him. His heart picks up slightly.

He turns his head to look at her. She does the same.

"I don't want you to be sad, Stiles."

He doesn't know what to say. He decides that next to nothing will have to do.

"Okay."

He pushes against her hand. She keeps him in place.

"Maybe this is about Lydia. Maybe this is about seeing other people together. Maybe you're lonely. I don't know. But if it's something along those lines," and know she's standing in front of him, leaning slightly into his chest.

"I can help you out."

And, okay, where the hell was this coming from? Erika, super sexy and all catwoman-levels-of-tight-leather Erika, offering to, what, have sex with him?

"W-what?" He blushes. He's not sure if he's had a girl come on to him before. At least not this direct. And definitely not one this attractive.

"Let me take some of that sadness away," she murmurs, stepping closer. Their bodies are practically flush now. "Lydia might not want you, but I do. Let me take your virginity, Stiles. Let me be your first."

His hands involuntarily go to her waist, pulling her closer. He can feel her lips on his neck. Soon he can feel her tongue against it, against his Adams apple.

It feels good. It feels  _really_  good. But at the same time, it feels wrong. It feels like she's taking advantage of him. And Stiles wonders why that bothers him. He'd have done anything to have sex with someone as attractive as Erika just days ago.

But right now, in this very moment, he's not so sure.

"I'm-I'm not sure if I want this, Erika." And damn, yes he's getting hard, but he's a teenage boy who's being attacked by a I-don't-give-a-fuck-what-society-thinks-is-accepta ble-you-will-see-my-cleavage-and-you-will-enjoy-it werewolf. Something would be wrong with him if he  _didn't_  get a boner.

"Your dick says otherwise," she murmurs against his chin.

"Erika." And Stiles is really surprised at how firm and final his voice sounded. Erika stops, and takes a step back.

He opens his eyes to see Scott standing beside him. Oh, guess it hadn't been his voice after all.

He turns around. The whole pack was standing around, eyes on the scene and watching him.

Well that's embarrassing.

"He says he's not sure. Maybe you should ask when he's more  _himself_."

"Well that would be against the point, wouldn't it? I'm trying to help him, to get his mind off whatever the hell's going on. Maybe I was doing this because I care, Scott, not because I'm a raging, sex obsessed bitch."

They all stare. Erika looks completely unfazed by the attention.

Stiles is uncomfortable. Way past uncomfortable actually. He just had one of the first sexual experiences of his life, and it had been in front of a handful of already very experienced and (in his mind) very judging teens.

This night really had taken a nose dive for the worst.

"Thank you, Erika." He spoke softly, keeping his eyes to the ground. "Honestly, listen to my heart or whatever, I mean it when I say thank you. But…I think I'm just going to go make myself something to eat, okay?"

He brushed past Scott and Erika, opening the door quickly and shutting it just as fast.

* * *

He was playing with a piece of bread and some butter when he heard the front door open and close softly. It had been fifteen minutes since he left them all on the porch. He was sort of surprised they weren't going to leave him alone.

He heard a kitchen chair move, and a body falling on to it. He than heard a sigh. He knew that sigh.

He turned around slowly.

"Why weren't you at your own party? Kind of makes you a dick to leave everybody hanging." His voice was quiet.

So was Derek's. "I had to pick something up."

"It took you three hours?" Stiles didn't know why, but he was starting to feel really angry.

And really Derek? Have everybody at your house and not even show up? Stiles had been excited to hang out with the older guy. There, he admitted it. He had been excited and Derek had let him down. Instead of the fun night Derek had promised, Stiles received a pretty shitty one.

"You're getting really angry." Derek commented.

"Yeah? How could you tell? Was it the heartbeat? Was it some kind of smell? Was it the eyes? Or did you just figure I would be? I mean, we both know you didn't hold up on your end of the bargain.  _'I'm going to have a campfire tonight Stiles. We'll celebrate your success of a graduation party. And we're going to talk.'"_

Stiles huffed in a breath of air. Derek made no move to stop his rant. Stiles sort of hated him a little more for it. How could the other man just take it and show no emotion.

"Would you fucking stop with the whole no emotion thing? You said you wanted to  _talk_. You don't  _talk_. You don't do feelings. I know you saw…saw how shitty I felt earlier. At the party. I could tell you recognized it when nobody else did. And you wanted to  _talk_  about it. Oh my god Derek Hale caring about my problems? How the hell did I convince myself that that could possibly be true?"

Silence. Everything was silent except for the loud gasps of breath that were raking through Stiles' body. He glared at Derek. Derek looked back, but with no emotion.

Stiles suddenly turned. He went back to playing with his bread. Well, he more started demolishing it, but he had to break something and the bread seemed like a pretty good outlet. It definitely couldn't hut him back.

"You should've stopped me," he snapped bitterly. "You shouldn't have let me say all that."

"I can't apologize for something I didn't know I did."

"You're not going to apologize now anyway."

His body tensed as he felt and saw a hand come to rest a few inches away from his on the counter. He felt the heat of Derek's body so close to his.

"Stiles, I'm sorry that –"

Derek snapped his mouth shut. Stiles felt his stomach drop. Stiles hadn't even moved or said anything. Apparently, Derek couldn't say sorry. Yet again, he actually had believed Derek had cared.

"Exactly. Just go away Derek."

"I'll apologize later," Derek murmured as he seriously started to invade Stiles personal space. The younger boy's heart picked up. "After you tell me why the hell you smell so much like Erika."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Funny story actually, she tried to – Hey now!"

Stiles felt his whole body be whipped around. His butt hit the counter as Derek's two hands did the same, on opposite sides of Stiles' body. He was literally face to face with the alpha now.

Well, he had been face to face. Before the furrier of the two faces planted itself directly under Stiles' chin and against his neck.

Stiles couldn't help but moan.

"Shit Stiles, did she like make out with your neck? It smells like she did. She did, didn't she?" He growled. And it sent shivers down Stiles' spine.

"Y-yeah. See, I was kind of ubber depressed…and she picked up on it…and thought it was because of the me having no one and still being a virgin thing…and offered to help…and you're still down there huh?"

He whimpered as Derek started rubbing his face against his neck. His stubble felt…oh fuck it, it felt amazing. This was way too much for Stiles in one night. He put his hands on Derek's shoulders and attempted to push him away.

"O-okay," he said shakily, before putting more force into it. "Okay. Enough. Her scents gone."

He pushed at Derek till he relented and the alpha took a few steps back.

"Thank you – Derek, really, thank you. Thank you for confusing the fuck out of me and making me feel even more, dare I say it and over share again,  _lost_  right now. I really needed that."

He started to push his way past the older man before he felt a pressure on his wrist.

"This did  _not_ go how I wanted it too," Derek growled.

"I'm sorry," Stiles mocked sympathy, voice still full of acid. "I'm sorry you can't just magically make me feel better. I'm sorry I couldn't make you come to your actual party and actually talk to me. Not that I'd ever share my problems with you anyway."

He wasn't prepared for the hurt that flickered across Derek's face though. He'd never caused that look before.

They both sort of just stood there staring at each other. Stiles wasn't sure when Derek had released his wrists, but he suddenly realized he was free to go. Derek wasn't stopping him. Derek wasn't  _going_  to stop him.

Derek wasn't really doing anything except staring back at him. And when Stiles stared back, he couldn't help but to really  _see_  Derek. The man looked broken. Shit, he looked about as broken as Stiles felt.

Derek was staring at Stiles, and it looked to Stiles as if the other man was just waiting…waiting for him to yell at him more, to make him feel more like shit, to tell him how much of a fuck up he was and that he really didn't need him tonight.

Derek had wanted to help, tried even, and Stiles had pushed him away. No, he had shoved, verbally assaulted and basically yelled the older man away. That would have hurt any person, let alone somebody with the largest trust and friendship issues in the world.

The sight in front of him took every single ounce of anger out of Stiles.

Derek broke their silence before Stiles could.

"I'm sorry."

He started to turn away. No, he did turn away. Stiles had wanted to reach out and grab him, but it seemed that his body was on shut down. Derek was halfway cross the room, heading for the stairs, before Stiles finally broke out of his stupor.

He ran forward and grabbed Derek's wrist. He was about to say something, but he was shocked into silence as Derek turned towards him and pulled his wrist away from Stiles.

"No. I can't handle this. I thought I could help but I can't. I'm sorry I fooled myself. I'm sorry I tried. I'm sorry I had this fucking campfire and had to come late because I had to get your fucking present and I'm - "

He snapped his mouth shut. Stiles hadn't said anything, so it took him a moment to understand why he had stopped talking.

Oh. He felt Stiles' arms around him. The boy had closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around the alpha, placed his head onto his chest and  _hugged_  him.

Stiles Stilinski was hugging Derek Hale.

And Derek Hale let him.

He slowly wrapped his arms around the younger boy. He felt wetness against his shoulders, and for a fraction of a second he thought Stiles was kissing him. Than he realized it was from tears.

"I know about you mom." Derek murmured, hands clenching Stiles and holding him close. That was more blunt than Derek wanted, but he needed Stiles to know that he knew what was causing the young kid so much pain.

"I know you do…." Stiles whispered against Derek's shoulder. "I think we should have that talk now."

They stayed like that for a few more moments. Neither wanted to let the other go.

"I'm sorry."

They tensed when they both said it at the same time.

"You have nothing - "  _to be sorry for_.

They both stopped. They were saying the same thing.  _Again_.

Stiles smiled first. It was a heartbreaking smile.

"So…we got past my melt down. My oh-my-god the world hates me freakout. My totally inappropriate and totally unjustified act of taking my anger and hurt out on you. And now we're here…and I feel terrible."

"Come upstairs?" Derek asked.

"What's upstairs?"

Really, this was all way to confusing. Stiles really didn't understand why his heart raced at Derek's question. Or why he had liked all that scenting business earlier. He was going to have to throw himself at Erika to get his man feelings back in control.

"I want to give you you're graduation present. It's going to get the talk rolling."

Stiles looked into his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows.

"It'll make sense. Come on."

Stiles caught his breath as Derek reached down and grabbed his hand, leading him upstairs. His mind flashed back to hours earlier when he had been the one initiating said handhold.

At least this time neither of them dropped it.

Derek led him right to his room, pushing Stiles inside and closing the door.


	4. The Final Chapter

A couch, a dresser, a bed, and a desk made up Derek's room. Two adjoining doors led to a private bathroom and a walk in closet. A laptop rested on the desk, while a few pieces of clothing were haphazardly thrown over the dresser. For the most part, the simplicity of the room was exactly what one would expect when picturing the bedroom of Derek Hale.

Everything except for the paint on the walls screamed Derek. The paint screamed otherwise. The alpha had, to nobody's surprise, wanted to paint the walls a dark grey color. By Derek's terms, it was a dark gray. In reality, it was really just black.

The pack had collectively denied their alpha the color of his choice. It was in fact Stiles who had suggested the room be painted a green color. Nobody but Stiles had realized why green was the perfect color.

It was now, standing in Derek's room and turning to face him that he knew he had made the right choice.

"Your eyes," he muttered before snapping his mouth closed. Stiles would very much like whatever unconscious part of him that made him comment on Derek-freaking-Hale's eyes and feeling all  _feely_  to have a conversation with the part of him that was actually conscious. He really wanted to know what was going on.

He also really didn't want to have a big gay freak out now, which sort of scared him because  _now_  implies that he'd be okay with having it  _sometime_.

And the implications of  _that_  are just way too much.

Derek misunderstands his comment ( _thank god_ ). His hands instantly fly to his eyes and his eyebrows furrow.

"Did they flash red? I didn't feel it." He sounded angry with himself.

"No, it's…don't worry they didn't. So, I hear there's a present involved in all of this?"

Yes Stiles was deflecting. But they were still both just standing in the doorway looking at each other and Stiles didn't know he could feel so awkward and comfortable and _content_  at the same time and it was bothering him.

Derek's face relaxes and he reaches into the leather jacket he had carried up to the room. He pulls a small black book from an inside pocket and throws the jacket aside.

Stiles looked at the book. It looked like it could be a diary or something. He didn't think it was though, because he could tell the pages in-between the covers were different colors. That's when he realized it was one of those books that had pages for pictures to be put in.

Oh.

Derek handed it over without saying anything. Stiles just stared at it.

He walked past Stiles and opened his top drawer. He pulled out an identical black book.

Stiles heart picked up speed. He was making the connections left and right. He was pretty sure he knew what was in his new picture book, and he was pretty sure he knew what was in Derek's. And he couldn't believe Derek was going to share it with him.

Derek looked down at the book between his hands. Stiles couldn't calculate the look the alpha held. It was...heartbreaking. Luckily for Stiles, his heart hadn't exactly been whole for a while; so actual heartbreaking wasn't in the question.

"Laura made me this book before…."

Derek trailed off. Silence hung between them, but Stiles didn't speak up. Derek wasn't done, and they both knew it. The younger boy didn't care how long it would take. Hell, he'd wait all night. If Derek was going to open up, Stiles would let him. And he'd wait for him.

"I didn't want it at first. I tried to throw it away…often. She'd always pick it out of the trash and put it back on my desk. And then she died."

Stiles cringed. Derek's tone turned cold. Yet again, he couldn't believe he had ever thought he'd drawn the shortest stick the world could give.

"And I hated her for leaving this damn book behind. Because I could throw it away knowing that it wouldn't come back. There was no one there to take it out of the trash. I could get rid of it."

Derek blinked hard, and Stiles throat tightened. Upon closer inspection, Stiles could see how watery the alphas eyes seemed. The space between suddenly felt unnatural. Evil. Wrong.

Stiles took a step. Derek didn't move but he tensed. Good enough, Stiles had thought. He closed the distance between them by leaning into Derek's chest, arms going around him and placing his head on the older man's shoulders.

"But that," hands circled Stiles, gripping him close. "That seemed like a big, fat  _fuck you_  to Laura. So I kept it. And I hated her for it, and I hated myself for it."

Stiles moved his head till his face was pressed up against Derek's neck. One of his hands shacked as he lifted it up and traced his fingers against the other side of the neck he was breathing in.

He didn't even wonder why neither of them pulled away. Why neither of them shied away from the…intimacy. All that he could think about was Derek telling his story, Derek hurting, and that he just wanted the other man to feel better.

"I finally opened the damn book three months ago. After I had all of you. After I had a pack again, a family."

Stiles' fingers paused and he held his breath. Derek's grip tightened around his waist.

"And?" Stiles murmured.

"And I realized that I could…do this. Live this fucking life. Maybe…maybe be happy, even. I miss them so fucking much…but the ache isn't so all consuming when I'm surrounded by the pack. By you."

Stiles heart was doing cartwheels. He gripped Derek's shoulder because he felt like he was going to fall. And maybe he was falling, because he was pretty sure that his feet had left the ground.

Oh. Derek was carrying him to the bed. The bed. Why the bed? What happened to the feely stuff? It made him literally hurt from feeling so… _good_?  _Needed_?  _Accepted_?

Loved?

"You do that for me," Derek murmured, setting Stiles on the side of the bed and than crawling till he was sitting with his back against the bed rest. "And I want to do that for you."

They weren't touching anymore. Stiles looked up surprised. He didn't like how Derek was resting/sitting against the backboard of his bed and he was sitting on the side of it.

Derek made a point to look down at the book between Stiles' hands. Stiles followed his gauze.

"I haven't looked at these pictures since…I don't remember when. I don't know if I can…"

"What stops you?" Derek murmurs, and he's pretty sure that if a pin had dropped, the little ting it would have made would have been louder than those three words.

"It feels too…alone."

Derek spreads his legs, tapping the bed between them.

"You're not alone this time."

"I…isn't this crossing some kind of line?" Stiles splutters. He can't really think straight what with all the emotional  _and_  physical revelations happening every other minute.

"This doesn't feel like… friend… territory anymore."

Derek doesn't say anything for a while. Stiles waits him out.

"Please."

He feels his whole body drop. Derek's voice makes him weak. He's not sure if it's in a good way.

He slowly crawls farther on the bed, keeping his eyes locked with Derek until he's practically crouching in front of him. He finally looks away when he's turned, sliding a bit lower on the bed then Derek, resting between the other man's legs and dropping his back till it hits Derek's chest. The top of his head brushes against Derek's jawbone.

He wishes he could see the older man. He wishes he didn't have to feel so vulnerable. So breakable.

So human.

"Should we try waiting for your heartbeat to settle, or do you think it's going to continue like this the whole night."

"Probably the second. Yeah, definitely the second."

"You're not alone." Derek growls. Stiles' whole body tingles.

"O-okay – l-lets do this."

With shaking hands, Stiles opens the book slowly. He gasps out when he sees the picture.

"This…this is my mother," Stiles whispers. Derek's hands curl around his waist, a good thing seeing as he's pushing back against the alpha anyway. It's almost like he's trying to get his body to morph into the other. Stiles knows that this is a silly thought, but the warmth is intoxicating and so damn comforting.

"She's beautiful."

"I-isn't she? This was taken…I think when I was seven? It was mother's day. Yep, I remember. This is on the lake she loved. We'd take her there every year."

"Have you ever gone back?"

"No I haven't." Damn it all if he didn't sound guilty because of it.

"Hey, that's alright. There's still plenty of time."

"Yeah you're right." Stiles agrees, nodding his head. He laughs slightly. He can feel Derek's chin nod with his head, and he can't help but to picture what this scene looks like.

Before Derek says anything, Stiles flips the page.

He laughs again; this time having nothing to do with Derek.

"This happened a year before she died. She was adamant that she was going to teach me how to play the piano. This is during one of my lessons. That glossy look says I wasn't paying any attention, but I never did though. I didn't need or want to learn the piano. I-," and Stiles was suddenly starting to gasp for breath. Tears attacked his eyes before he even felt the sting.

When he did, though, it was bad. His tears  _burned_.

"I didn't understand what it meant to her! I should've tried harder!"

And he's shaking now, and he feels like he needs to move so he starts scrambling against Derek. No, he really needs to move. He needs to get his legs moving. Maybe pace around the room? Maybe he'll just run. That would be enough movement.

But he can't. Because no matter how hard he flails, he'll never be able to break apart from Derek's arms. Wrapped around his waist like a cage, Stiles is stuck.

"Derek! Let me go! I need to go. I need to move, god damnit!"

Derek doesn't say anything. He just holds him. He waits him out.

"Get off me! Now, Derek. You can't hold me till I feel better. You can't change what I did. I didn't understand what it meant to her! I SHOULD'VE TRIED HARDER! I SHOULDN'T HAVE GIVEN UP ON HER."

He stops. He cries out. It feels like it rips threw his body. If he was a wolf, he's pretty sure it would have been heard for miles.

His body goes limp. He doesn't fight anymore. He just cries.

He doesn't realize when Derek's arms go lack, or when the actual process of flipping him around happens.

He ends up being turned over though, and he wraps his arms around Derek's torso and plants his head so hard against the werewolf's sternum that it would hurt a human.

Derek's hands rub circles on his back.

They don't talk again for a half an hour.

"I avoided her for the last couple of months..."

His voice is hoarse from the crying, the screaming, and the not using it for a half an hour thing.

"Isn't that the most fucked up thing ever? We hardly talked. I couldn't stand being in the same room as her. She felt like death. I knew it was coming. I didn't care if I was wasting the time I had left with her. She felt wrong. I didn't like feeling wrong."

"You were eight years old Stiles. You were dealing with things that some adults don't even understand."

"I shouldn't have given up. I shouldn't have pushed her away."

Derek was silent.

"I'm sorry I threw you're book…and that I only made it to the second picture."

"I thought it you'd make it to the fifth or sixth. No way in hell did I actually expect you to  _finish_  it."

Stiles looked up. His face was wrecked. His eyes were puffy and his checks were stained with the tracks of his tears. He put his chin on Derek's chest, looking up at the older man with careful eyes.

"I'm not going to get over this over night…no matter how nice the gesture was."

"I would never assume that, Stiles. I just wanted to get the process rolling."

Stiles felt another tear roll down his cheek. It didn't hurt. This tear wasn't for his mother, it was for the warmth and the unbelievable feeling of safety and love Derek was giving him.

He was suddenly hyperaware of where his body was. He was literally lying on top of Derek. His chin was directly between Derek's' nipples.

"What are we doing?" Stiles murmured.

"We're healing."

Stiles didn't miss the  _we're_  in that sentence. He also didn't miss the accompanying feeling of happiness that spread across his chest because of it.

"I mean right now. The whole me…laying on you thing."

"I don't know what  _you're_  doing but I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Whatever  _you_  want."

"Whatever  _I_  want?"

Derek nods. His face was so serious and ridiculously intense that Stiles felt like he could crumble underneath it.

"What if what I want is more than you bargained for? What if I don't want to talk about my mom right now."

"That's fine."

Stiles groaned in frustration.

"Jesus Derek, just tell me what you want!"

"I want what you want."

Stiles could have hit him.

"Fine. But I gave you ample warning."

Stiles lifted himself up till he was on his knees and hands, crawling up till he was sitting in Derek's lap. The other man looked at him expectantly, back resting against the wall and a smirk on his face.

"Last chance to back out." Stiles murmured, as he leaned forward, putting a hand around Derek's neck and steadying himself with it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Derek mocks confusion. "Where is this heading anyway?"

Stiles begins to speak (it's against his nature to miss any chances of sarcastic comments) before Derek silences him.

With his lips.

_With his freaking lips!_

Stiles moans as Derek traces his lower lip with his tongue. He opens, leaning back slightly as a warm tongue presses into his mouth. It attaches itself to Stiles' own, and the two wither against each other.

Stiles never thought a wrestling match would ever be happening in his mouth, but he sort of thinks it's the  _best thing ever_  so he's not complaining.

In one corner stood Stiles Stilinski; The world's most awkward, talkative, and hyperactive teen. A boy who was so afraid nobody would care enough about him to show up to his graduation party. A boy who didn't realize how much he was hurting and hiding until somebody else showed him he was. A boy who had lost so much, and yet, years later, was still trying to figure out how to become whole again.

In the other corner stood Derek Hale; the world's most brooding, secretive, and quiet man. A man who didn't think he deserved the trust or the love of someone else until that someone showed him that not only did he deserve it, but he already had it. A man who lost so much, and yet, years later, was still trying to figure out how to become whole again.

Their lips slowed and Stiles pulled away.

"I want to look at a new picture every night. With you."

"Okay."

"I want to be your boyfriend."

"Done."

Stiles eyed him wearily. His hand shook as he placed it on Derek's cheek.

"I want...I want this." Stiles' hand slowly drops and falls against the skin above Derek's heart.

Derek smiles.

"You already have it."

* * *

_(24 Hours Earlier)_

Stiles sprang out of bed.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Tomorrow was his graduation party, and a sudden thought had entered his mind while he was trying to drift to sleep.

He grabbed his car keys and raced downstairs. His dad was working the night shift tonight so he didn't have to worry about any excuses.

He made it to Derek's within ten minutes.

"Derek!" He screamed as he used his spare key to open the loft doors. He quickly hurried into the apartment, eyes landing on a very surprised looking alpha. He was sitting on the coach watching some TV show.

Huh, how normal.

" _Stiles_?"

"I just realized that we live in the 21st century and I could totally have just called you." His head fell backwards and hit the loft doors. He felt stupid.

"Call me about what?"

Stiles hands fumbled with his t-shirt, suddenly very self-conscious.

"Well, it's just…tomorrow's my party, which I'm sure you know about, but it's just….Look, I haven't properly invited you yet. Yes I've said it to you but only when I was talking to the whole pack. I want to make sure you know you're invited."

He finally looked at Derek. He still looked shocked (Stiles didn't blame him, showing up screaming at 12:30 at night was bound to surprise even Derek). But he also looked…happy?

"You came all this way to make sure I understood that I was invited to your party?"

"Yes. And don't give me that look. We all know that if you weren't  _specifically_  and  _directly_  invited you'd pull some 'I thought you were just talking to the teenagers of the pack, not me too' shit."

"You really want me there?"

Stiles sighed, exasperated.

"Yes, Derek you freaking dumb ass, I want you there. All right, we good now? Am I done embarrassing myself? I'm sure I'll see you when I see you…pack meeting Tuesday, right?"

"Well you'll see me tomorrow."

Stiles face lit up.

"You're coming?" He didn't want to hope, because hope always led to feelings of being let down, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Yes. I'll come. If it means enough for you to drive your ass across town after midnight to invite me, I'll come."

Stiles body relaxed.

"Cool. I guess…tomorrow than. You can't be awkward if it just turns out to be my dad, a few station friends, and you. You'll have to make small talk. But I think you can handle it."

Stiles was turning around when he stopped.

"Stiles."

"Yeah?"

"People are going to come to your party. Relax, okay? They'll come. It will be great."

Stiles whole body warmed.

"You know, keep talking like that and I'll accidently fall in love with you."

"I was simply telling the truth."

"There you go again! You want to make this drive-across-town-to-give-you-an-invite into a booty call?"

Derek laughed. It was beautiful.

"Fine. Nobody's coming to your party. You'll be all alone."

"Nice try bud. Alas, our growing love affair will have to wait for another time." He dramatically lifted his arm up to his face to mock pain, before they both laughed again.

Stiles turned and started heading out the door.

"I'll see you  _tomorrow_  Stiles. I probably won't be able to talk to you though, you'll be fucking surrounded by friends and fans."

"Alright now you're just trying to hard," Stiles smiled before nodding his head in a goodbye. He turned and exited the loft, closing and locking the door behind him.

Stiles didn't realize he was at his jeep until he was sitting in the front seat. He had spent the whole trek to the parking lot thinking about how much better he felt about tomorrow.

"Damn sourwolf, who knew you could be so sweat."

This was going to be the best graduation party  _ever_.

**The End : )**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this! Please tell me what you thought : )


End file.
